


Confessions

by twistercas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Jensen, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistercas/pseuds/twistercas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Cockles one shot sort of thing that I wrote for my babe Lili. LILI I HOPE YOU LIKE IT CUZ ITS REALLY FLUFFY AND MIGHT SUCK ASS.</p>
<p>(Also let me know if the formatting sucks bc I typed it all in my notes on my iPod and then posted it on mobile)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

There's about fifty other ways Jensen could have dealt with this shitty day. The best choice would've been to head home immediately after leaving the set, whip up some food, and go to bed. Instead, the man instead decides on the quietest bar he could find downtown. What better way to ignore your feelings than drowning them in alcohol?  
"Another." He holds up his glass to the young bartender, and she smiles slightly as she fills up another shot of whiskey.  
"Tough day at work?" Her name tag reads Lilly.  
"You could say that." Jensen gives no other response, and Lilly just nods in understanding and hurries off to serve a new arrival.  
Jensen sighs as he leans his head back, stretching out his neck. It really hadn't been the actual filming that had gotten to him, he loves his job. He enjoys the constant shouts of "action," he loves the freedom he has with his job; being able to take his character basically any way he wants. The problem though, is the people, one person in specific actually. It's not like the man does it on purpose, not like it's HIS fault that Jensen gets so frustrated by him. Flustered, even. With that messy, dark hair, those bright blue eyes, that beautiful personality, Misha Collins is the reason Jensen gets so distracted on set some days. The reason Jared has tried multiple times to sit him down for a few concerned filled talks that Jensen just barely manages to avoid. The whole reason why Jensen now sits in this bar downing one drink after another.  
He's just barely about to cross the line over into drunkenness when his ever present thoughts are interrupted.  
"Hey, darling. Can I buy you another drink?" It's the man who entered a few minutes ago. He's not bad looking, Jensen has to admit. So, seeing as this seems to be a night for bad choices, he nods his head and shifts to look at the man.  
"Billy." The man states his name. "And what should I call you, angel?"  
Alright, the pet names are getting a bit weird, Jensen thinks to himself; but that thought quickly leaves Jensen's mind as he introduces himself and another large glass of whiskey is set in front of him, courtesy of this Billy guy.  
Halfway through the glass, Billy runs a hand over Jensen's arm, and his flirting game turns up about ten levels.  
Another night, Jensen may have flirted back and maybe even gotten his number, but tonight his thoughts are consumed with one man and one man only. And it's not Billy. He stammers a rushed apology to the man he leaves sitting confused at the bar and stumbles out of the building, slipping a hand into his pocket as he goes. He drags out his phone and drunkenly hits a shortcut button on the screen.  
"Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea." He mutters to himself, but his brain is fuzzy and his common sense gone.  
The phone rings and rings until a voice on the other end says, "Hey you've reached Misha, can't answer the phone now I'll probably call back later. Leave a message!"  
Thankfully this bar isn't too far from Jensen's apartment, and he's almost walked halfway there when he begins to speak into the phone.  
"Heyy Mish." He laughs and stumbles a bit. "How's your night goin man, mines shitty. Because of you ya know, your face. You've got a nice face." He pauses. "You've got a lot of niceness about you Mish. Does that make sense?" Jensen laughs again. "Whatever. But you, you, you're fuckin' beautiful Misha. Ya know? Like, uh, like the sun. Yea, the sun. So bright and pretty and wonderful, but like can hurt someone ya know? Can hurt someone baad..." Jensen pauses for a second and puts a hand to his head, trying to fight the haze. "Even if ya don't know you're doin' it, right? How could ya know." Jensen begins to laugh hard as a thought comes to him. He's almost home as he begins to speak again. "IM IN LOVE WITH THE SUN! Mish I love you, I- ah, fuck, damn it." Jensen mutters the last words as he walks straight into his front door, having forgotten in his drunken state that doors need to be unlocked. He drops his phone and tries to pick it up, accidentally hitting the button to hang up. He looks at the blank screen for a second, which no longer shows a connection to Misha's phone, but then shrugs and continues to struggle into his apartment. Jensen collapses immediately on his mussed up bed, fully clothed and smelling like a bar. One arm and half a leg hangs of the side of his queen sized bed and he's out like a light, almost completely forgetting that just five minutes ago he confessed something very personal over a drunk-off-his-ass phone call.  
Jensen wakes the next morning (actually, more like mid-day) with a pounding in his head and a feeling of apprehension he can't quite remember a reason for. He throws the covers off, feeling the soft, silkiness against his bare legs and arms and thinking vaguely that didn't he crash with his clothes still on and the covers underneath? He shrugs and forgets the thought until the sound of sizzling and the smell of maple syrup and bacon spread through the air, tickling his nose. He breathes in deep, appreciating the smell that hasn't spread through this apartment in a while. He barely spares a thought for what could be causing the heavenly smell and heads towards his bathroom, glancing down briefly at his gray t-shirt and black briefs. Not even five minutes have passed when a throat clearing interrupts the sound of teeth being brushed.  
"Hey, Jen." Jensen nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of that gravely voice coming from the doorway. He whips around, green eyes wide, and sees Misha smirking at him from where he stands, arms crossed lightly over his chest as he leans against the doorframe.  
Jensen's toothbrush hangs out of his mouth and feels his cheeks burn red. He turns quickly to spit and rinse out his mouth then begins to fidget, playing with the hem of his plain t-shirt, not meeting Misha's eyes.  
"H-hi Misha." He stammers. Then, he drops his hands and finally locks eyes with the other man. “Look, I, uh…” he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I have no idea what happened last night. I have a feeling it was something utterly humiliating that I will never live down and I just want to apologize for whatever it is. But thanks for showing up and taking care of my sorry ass,” He pauses, thinking. “At least I’m assuming it was you?”  
Misha laughs and takes a step towards Jensen, not responding but instead grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the kitchen. “Sit.” He says simply, pushing Jensen into a chair at the small kitchen table. The man turns towards the counter and reaches for two plates, raising an arm to stretch for the salt on a higher shelf. Jensen absently licks his lips as Misha's light blue button down raises slightly, showing off the strip of tanned skin just over the belt of his jeans. Jensen can't help thinking how soft that skin would be to the touch, or how much he'd love to run his tongue along it. Misha drops his hand down and turns around, salt in hand, nearly catching Jensen staring at him with his mouth slightly open. Jensen jerks his eyes away at the last second, pretending to have suddenly become enormously fascinated with the condensation on his water glass. He wrenches his gaze from the glass when Misha sets two plates of bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the wood table. Jensen hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first bite of melt-in-your-mouth pancake hits his tongue.  
"Mmm." He hums, eyes closed and savoring the taste. "Thanks man, these are good." He opens his eyes again to look at Misha, who leans back in his chair, arms crossed, blue eyes studying Jensen. While he finishes off his own plate, Jensen notices that Misha has barely touched his food.  
"Aren't you gonna e-." Jensen starts to say as he shovels in his last bite.  
"You don't remember anything from last night?" Misha suddenly asks, completely cutting Jensen off. He seems almost nervous as he stares at Jensen, waiting for a response.  
Jensen swallows with a gulp. "I, uh, n-no not really?" He stammers. "I mean, I remember a bar, some guy, drinking way too much. But a lot is missing. I don't remember getting home, but I remember crashing with my clothes on with the bed still made."   
Misha just nods slowly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Jensen can't help it when his eyes slowly drop to Misha's lips and damn that man for distracting him even now. Jensen clears his throat and drags his eyes back up to Misha's, with some effort. He furrows his brow, wishing for all the world he remembered what happened last night. He has a sneaking suspicion that whatever he said or did could ruin everything.   
Almost afraid to ask, he stammers in a voice that's almost a whisper, "What, uh, God, what'd I do?"  
Misha chuckles and shrugs. "You called me." He states simply, but Jensen knows the man, and himself for that matter, far too well to think it was a simple phone call.  
"Shit." Jensen mutters, and he's up and out of his chair, pacing around the room like somehow he could turn back time and take back what he said. Because he knows that there's only one thing he would've drunk called Misha to say, that one thing he's been keeping to himself all these years. That one thing that's kept him from settling down with anyone, and always secretly being glad that Misha hasn't either.  
"Shit." He mutters again, eyes on his shoes as he paces back and forth, back and forth.  
"Do you remember?" Misha asks quietly, slowly standing.  
Jensen spins towards him, and where Misha is calm, quiet, almost serene, Jensen is on the verge of blowing up, He's freaking out internally, eyes wide, hands tugging anxiously through his hair, he wonders not for the first time if Misha even feels the same way at all, or if Jensen is reading that look in those blue eyes completely wrong.  
"There's only one thing I could've said." Jensen replies, looking straight at Misha.   
Misha smiles and takes a step towards Jensen, then another. They're a few feet apart when he says, "and did you mean it? Was it true, what you said?"  
Jensen lets out a ragged breath he hadn't realized he was holding and his heart begins beating even faster than it had been two seconds ago. Misha his staring at him with an expectant, even hopeful look (or maybe Jensen just wants that to be hope).  
"Well?" Misha takes another step.  
"Of course it was fucking true." Jensen nearly exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation and thinking, fuck it all, I love him, I don't care if he doesn't love me back.  
Misha doesn't respond right away, and Jensen stares at the ground, afraid to meet the other man's eyes. That's it, he thinks, I've ruined our relationship, it's just gonna be weird now.  
"Well that's a relief."   
Jensen jerks his eyes up to see Misha grinning, blue eyes sparkling like he just won the damn lottery and gave it all to charity.   
"Huh?" Jensen says stupidly.  
Misha laughs, and suddenly they're barely a foot apart. Misha looks straight at a dumbfounded Jensen and says, "I was beginning to think I'd have to go my entire life loving a man who didn't love me back."  
With those words, it's like a weight has lifted from Jensen's shoulders and suddenly it's like the world is a whole new place and life is great and holy shit, he loves me too.  
Jensen's mouth drops wide open and Misha laughs, wrapping his arms around the taller mans waist. "So do you-" Misha starts, but Jensen shakes his head.  
"Shut the hell up and kiss me damn it."  
And with another little laugh, he does just that, and when the two break apart from what is agreeably the best kiss of their lives, they both whisper "finally."

A few hours later they're lying together, side by side in Jensen's queen size bed. In a sweaty tangle of arms and legs and messy hair and smiles, the two look at each other, blue eyes meet green and a shared thought of "how did I get so lucky" tumbles through both their minds.  
"You called me the sun, you know. Said I was pretty and bright." Misha murmurs against Jensen's bare chest as he snuggles in close.  
Jensen groans, and Misha feels the rumble against his cheek. "I'm so lame."  
Misha chuckles and lifts his head to kiss away the crimson blush that's spread across Jensen's cheeks. "You're not. You're sweet, and I like it." He says.  
"In that case," Jensen whispers, and then begins to softly sing, "you are my sunshine, my only sunshine."  
At that, Misha laughs and plants another kiss on Jensen's lips, stealing away the next line. "I take it back, you are lame. But I love you any way."  
Jensen chooses to completely ignore the teasing insult in favor of the second thing. He wraps his arms tighter around the dark haired man tucked against him and he sighs contentedly.  
"I never thought I'd hear you say that." He murmurs.  
"I love you." Comes the reply.  
"It's nice." Jensen says.  
"I love you." A whisper this time.  
"I love you too, my sunshine."


End file.
